Lethevale Mods (
lethevale_mods) wrote in
lethevale_ooc2019-03-26 08:20 pm
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TDM The First

You probably know how this works, but just in case, here's the idea:
- You put the name of the character you're testing out in the subject line
- You write a starter (or several!) in the comment, with the Lethevale AU of your character.
- People respond with their characters. Threads occur. Friendships are made. The world is put to rights.
- None of the threads in the Test Drive are game-canon.
Here are some prompts to start you off!
1. Seeking Shelter
4. Pay No Attention To The Passage Behind The Curtain
You were riding along the mountain road when your horse, terrified by some dark shadow you couldn't see clearly, screamed and bolted, throwing you. Now you're caught in the middle of nowhere, in Lethe Wood, and the rain is getting heavier by the minute.
But what's that? A light? A house? Perhaps if you knock, they'll give you a bed for the night. It'll all look better in the morning...
But what's that? A light? A house? Perhaps if you knock, they'll give you a bed for the night. It'll all look better in the morning...
2. The Beast! The Terrible Beast!
You took all the precautions. You carried a lantern, kept to the safer streets. Or maybe you didn't. Either way, you were attacked by something as big as a horse, with gleaming white teeth and a hideous howl.
When you run into another person, will you warn them? Will you ask them for a hiding place, or stand and fight? If all else fails, maybe you can use them as live bait...
When you run into another person, will you warn them? Will you ask them for a hiding place, or stand and fight? If all else fails, maybe you can use them as live bait...
3. Eat, Drink, and Be Merry
Lethevale isn't all monsters and storms. Mostly, but not all. Tonight, there's a party in the Black Swan - dancing, music, and of course, an open bar. Take the chance to get to know your neighbours, why don't you?
4. Pay No Attention To The Passage Behind The Curtain
The two of you were just wandering around Lethe Hall, when you leant on a candlestick, and... what's this? The bookshelf's opened? There's a hole in the wall now, and a spiral staircase leading down into the dark. You know, it's probably best to just leave well enough alone - but you have to admit, it's curious...
writings ooc mods mod npcs | setting premise faq/mod contact gameplay | taken latest tdm application au workshop | hiatus/drop calendar latest hmd |
no subject
He's spent the past six months back in a life where servants lay out his clothes for him in the early morning, where he hears Mass in his father's chapel every Sunday, where he drinks wine instead of whatever's been fermenting in someone's saddlebag for the past six weeks. He reaches for the flask.
It is warming, in that one swig feels like he's swallowed a hot poker. He coughs; his eyes water; he feels significantly more alive than he has in hours. Maybe months. "Hell," he says, with appreciation, and that's invigorating, too.
He lowers himself gingerly down onto the mostly-dry floor. The ends of his hair, grown long since his return, drip water and a little steam as he inches closer to the fire and stretches out his sore leg. "Medic to barkeep is a long journey," he says, looking up at her. "Can it be you're planning to settle down? Retire to the country?"
Maybe Estill-- Pol-- is running from someone. Maybe she just thinks she is. It wouldn't be unlike her, either way, he thinks.
no subject
Plourr snorts, but says, "Can't go from war to war forever, and all the sensible countries are off making treaties anyway - day will come when they're all so bound up that if two of them fought, every other nation would have to pitch in. Meanwhile all my rogues are settled down or joined up with something bigger, and I'm too old and mean to learn to be a constable or a city doctor." She has some funds tucked away, and more options than she's suggesting. Not a lot more.
Speaking of doctoring, she's had an eye on the way Boromir's favoring one side. "What's wrong with your leg? You get kicked, put it in a hole, what?" He's soaked and it's probably not required for his health that he removes all those wet clothes. Not that that would hurt anything, either.
no subject
“I don’t spring up from a fall as lightly as I once did.” He’s a few years younger than she is, but he’s been thrown a hundred times—after a point, his bones simply tired of it, he supposes. The chill of wet clothes likely isn’t doing much for the sore muscle, but that can’t be helped. “It wants rest. ...And a horse to bear me up the road to Lethevale, but that I cannot have.”
The ruefulness in that teeters on the edge of bitterness. He’s always had a pessimistic streak; that, too, has grown stronger in recent years.
no subject
A bit gingerly she lowers herself to her greatcoat and turns a fold so it's in her lap, where she can sort through that that pocket. Less out of a need for any of the contents, more to have something to do with her hands.
"I had to kill my horse. Broken leg, right through the skin. Don't know where my mule ended up, but she'll find people or a wolf's belly, soon or late." The point of mules and donkeys, she's always thought, was that they were smarter and tougher than horses, making up for their lack of foolhardy obedience with survival skills. Maybe that extends to not following a horse plunging off the road in a blind panic while its rider curses fit to blacken the stars.